As I backed the van into the driveway Monday something at the back of the house caught my attention. No, nothing wrong with the yard, house, rain barrel, or anything else that ordinarily would freak me out and distract me from backing a one ton cargo van. Nope not even a furry cat sighting. It was a pair of skis. Skis. Propped right up by the back door was a pair of nice skinny blue skis. Where did they come from? Eric and Laura have already fled to NZ. We don’t know anyone else in Lexington who skis. Jill? Skis? Where in the world has my wife been today? Hop out of the van, run to the back door, inspect the discovery. A BIG pair of touring planks. By big I mean 195 big. Just a bit too long for me or my wife, but the $9.50 pair price tag told me that size didn’t matter. Neither did the fact that step in bindings weren’t the beefy backcounty jobs we’ve come to get used to. My wife must have scored a pair of cheap skis somewhere in Central Kentucky (a GoodWill in Jessamine County to be exact….insert Jessamine County joke here). Nevermind they are too long for us to even use as rock skis, or that we have no real need for another pair of Alpina touring skis, we got a cheap pair of skis. Maybe we’ll hang them on the wall of our cabin. First we’ll have to get a cabin. Maybe we’ll sell them on craigslist. Maybe we’ll take them to Whitegrass and try to barter for a t-shirt. I don’t know what we’ll do with them. I do know that I love my wife. She’s full of surprises. Like a pair of skis on the back stoop in the middle of summer.